


The best way out (English version)

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario is a famous guitar player that enters in a depression state. Marco, who used to be his best friend, offers him to stay in his house until he gets better. Far from his house, Mario remembers why he used to love music so much, he also remembers why he used to love Marco so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mario Gómez doesn't appear on this chapter, so don't get confused hahaha

With some laziness, Mario managed to turn his head enough so he could stare at the phone. It was white, off-hooked and dirty, a little scratched because of the much use that it had, especially because of people that use rings. Maybe it'll be important put a little more attention when using it, then it won’t end so much worn. But the young one didn't think about that, not until recently.

His chest rose notoriously, before crushing when he threw all his air on a sigh. Before he didn't think about anything, now he thinks everything too much. Was it impossible to find a midpoint? He was afraid to be like that his whole life, thinking too much that he ended up doing nothing.

Thomas said that lately he felt that Mario was distracted, like if he couldn't keep his thoughts in something. Indeed he couldn't follow the thread of a conversation, only nodded occasionally; not caring that they noticed that he wasn't even listening.

At first he blamed this on his cell phone, which kept vibrating on his pocket all day long. Finally he threw it to the trash, and after a week with anxiety, he was able to return to live without it. However, there weren't results; he was still lost in another world and each time less concerned about hiding it. 

If he had to explain it in terms of physical pain, he'll probably describe as if an anvil was installed on his chest, pressing down strongly, leaving him without air and with despair that made him want to cry. He was choking on an imaginary object, and if someone asked him why he felt so bad, he couldn't answer. He'd love to, of course, but he simply had no idea of what was making him feel so bad.

He didn't want to talk, it seemed a terrible effort that did not worth it, especially when they asked about his sadness, he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to go out, it was 5 days since he left his apartment for the last time. He was having now the maximum contact with the outside world since that, with the window open and a chill wind coming in, lying on his couch, also white.

It was dark; the only light was coming from the street. He had to open the window because even he had realized that the place smelled like confinement, and he couldn't let the neighbors think that he was dead, it'd be too pathetic. If he was dying of something, it was of cold, with Goosebumps and his cheeks burning. He didn’t have strength to get up and close the window. He couldn’t/ didn’t want to.

Perhaps what aggravated the situation was that he knew that the solution was easy, but it was difficult for him to understand. Apparently there was some sort of problem with his serotonin, with his genetic heritage or the environment in which he lived. Probably the three of them. The only thing that Mario had clear was that the psychiatrist had diagnosed depression, and had also given him a prescription.

Was that what people usually call "happiness pills"?

The boy wasn't sure, especially because even if he had that prescription since a week ago, it was hung with a magnet to his refrigerator, standing still, with no one altering it. He felt kind of stupid, like if having to take pills would turn him into some kind of sick deranged. The doctor Neuer had told him that with them he'd feel a lot better, but for Mario was very difficult to trust those little white tablets. Why everything had to be white?

With all the reluctance of the world, he got up and closed the window with a nasty blow. Now that he had taken enough strength to get up, he thought that maybe he should try and communicate someone that he was still alive. He looked at the computer, it had been a long time since he connected with the world, and even his TV was off. It shouldn't be too bad turn on the computer.

Mario thanked with all his soul to have been smart enough to throw his phone, because just by getting connected to the internet he realized how hard it would be for a musician to disconnect from real life. 

His twitter was full of things like: "#SearchForMario", "#MarioComeBack" "#GotzeWeSupportYou".

He looked with some surprise that last hashtag. We support you? It's not like if someone close had died, as if they had a rejected CD or were with a terminal disease. In fact, not much happened.

Actually, nothing happened at all.

 

This was probably the crux of the matter, It was now approximately a month and a half since his last appear in public beyond the market or in his psychiatrist’s visits, where thankfully he hadn’t been photographed. He didn’t want people finding out that he was depressed, and didn’t want them to feel sorrow, neither to be treated like something fragile. He only wanted to be able to overcome this, but, how long had he been going to the Doctor? Probably more than a year. They had tried to solve it in thousand different ways, and all of them had failed. That is why he ended up having to take pills; it was a matter of despair.

 

That’s why he turned off the computer and decided to go again to his bed; He couldn’t bear to keep reading the despair in which his fans had drowned in his absence. It was like they were absorbing Mario’s suffering.

 

Maybe, he thought, the best would be to get over this, make himself a man and stop whining like a little girl. Yes, he said to himself that it was what he should do, go out in public and show them that there was nothing to worry about, that everything would get better, that he will continue making songs, and every one would be better than the previous one.

Of course, it was much more easier to think it than to do it, and he realized of this when, lying in his bed, he saw the calendar and he knew it was a very little time till his birthday. He was embittered by the simple idea of talking to any one, it would be better not to think about celebrating that he was a year closer to death.

Ok, effectively he needed to stop listening Pink Floyd, that band wasn’t helping, not at all.

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Finally, he had to get up and open the door. It were at least ten minutes since someone started knocking strongly his door, the neighbors would get angry, and that would entail more problems he didn’t want to think about.

Thomas entered like a hurricane in the house, yelling things that Mario couldn’t totally understand. He rummaged around the living room’s table, reproaching to the left and the right, while Mario got settled on the wall, wanting to sleep like he hadn’t want in a very long time.

Perhaps he couldn’t blame him; already he had lost the account of how much time they were going without speaking to each other. Or rather, when was the last time Mario answered to the constants calls of Müller. Now probably he had been instigating Götze via E-mail, or something, and he hadn’t even find out.

He managed to listen to phrases like “You don’t understand what means to be in a damned band "or " We are four, Mario, not only you " " We Need you to stop behaving like a complete asshole "

Deep inside, he knew that Thomas was right, but he also was strongly sure that if continue in the band, he would end up by committing suicide. He didn’t bear them anymore, any of them. Every day now he was feeling desires of sending everything to hell, and to move away from the whole music world for awhile. Somehow he was managing to remember how selfish and infantile these feelings were, in the end it was his work, and it was what he always had dreamed.

Such stupid dreams he had.

They’ve just released their third album, and it had the triple of fame than the other two. Suddenly they had stopped being simply known, to become internationally famous. Already it was difficult to go out to the street without sunglasses and clothes that covered him, and just for being the damned guitarist of the most popular damned band of the surroundings.

At some point, Thomas got jaded of Mario’s lack of reaction, so he throw a glass against the wall, achieving, at least for while, to get the minor one’s attention.

‘’Are you insane?’’ Mario asked with indignation.

‘’Oh, so now you are paying attention to me, seriously, is it necessary to get to this?’’ Müller answered with frustration.

Götze looked at him, scowling.

‘’I want to leave the band’’ He simply said.

‘’Don’t be an idiot…of course you don’t want to’’ Thomas tried to sound natural, just like he knew it was a foolishness, but he couldn’t hide the tremble in his voice, it was impossible. Mario rejoiced, thinking that he had Thomas in his hands.

‘’I can’t bear any of you anymore’’ Yes, maybe he sounded a little bit infantile saying those things, but they were true.

Thomas rubbed his face with his hands, not being able to believe all the immaturity in Mario’s words. He started to walk again from left to right, he opened his mouth a million times, but no sound, excepting some snorts, would leave it. Finally, he looked at him in the eyes, with a truly disappointment painted in his face.

‘’Do you honestly think that we are not sick of you? I beg you; tell me, do you even remember when the last time that you even show up in a rehearsal was?’’ Thomas spoke really calmed, more than the expected if you looked at him with his panic face. 

Mario didn’t know how to answer this. The elder one was right; the truly annoyance was him, this thing made him most vehemently ask why they just wouldn’t let him go, maybe everything would be easier that way.

‘’Please Mario; just try to grow up a little bit. You can’t leave the band just like that’’

This time the younger one nodded a little. Yes, he was right again. He couldn’t just leave the band whenever he felt like doing it. It was his job, and although he didn’t want to admit it, he had a commitment. Even though he had money enough to be able to live the rest of his fucking life without having to work anymore, the word ‘’Commitment’’ rumbled again and again inside his head, driving him crazy. Making him sad.

He raised his view and looked at him, really. Thomas was tired, he had a incredible dark circles. His hand trembled when he pulled a cigarette out of the package. He inhaled it deeply, a large part of the cigarette was consumed, leaving a faint red glow in the room’s dimness. Mario knew this wouldn’t calm him, that only when he finished the whole package and the middle of the next one he might get appeased. Then he would sit and stay shut, looking without seeing, in peace.

He would get a little closer, he would speak softly to him, saying that he was sorry if in any moment he offended Mario. He would tell him that he was doing all this just because of the band, for the good of all, that he really appreciate him and that he would never want him to get hurt. Maybe Mario would drop a single tear, which the elder would clean with his thumb while looking at him in the eyes. Probably he would kiss him, softly and slowly. Just for a while, then he would get bored.

He would hug him with tenderness and he wouldn’t let him go for a long time. They would stay there, like the pair of idiots they were, maybe they would lie down on the sofa, just holding each other for a while, for the eternity, it didn’t matter. Thomas filled a hole that didn’t have his shape, he would never completely fit in it, but it was the closest Mario could get. He was his best friend, and they had that weird kind of friendship that he used to have with…with Marco.

But it wasn’t the same. Mario also filled a hole that didn’t have his shape. They were both orphan friends that after running away had sought for something similar and had found each other.

The younger smiled with melancholy, he knew Thomas by heart, he couldn’t be mad at him. That’s why, once again, he did like he say. He always would do what he say, just a lap-dog that wants his master’s approbation more than anything. He had fallen very low.

So low that he doubted if there was any light

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Honestly, it would be mundane to describe Ann Kathrin’s beauty with words. Maybe some well know poet could’ve describe something similar, but undoubtedly different. She just blinded. She was so beautiful that it hurt to look at her.

Her eyes didn’t just have a color, they were absorbent. Maybe, Mario thought, he should’ve made a contest; the winner would’ve been the one that could stare at her without getting lost in her eyes. Every single person would’ve lost.

Her hair was a blonde curtain that reached her waist, and no matter how disheveled she were, she would look perfect. She was tall, her face was thin, and her cheekbones were high. Really thin, but curved. Long and formed legs. She was what many people would call a God’s perfect creature ‘Some people have so much, and other have so little’ we could think.

And she wasn’t dumb. In fact, it was really entreatingly talking with her. She was sure of her beauty, but didn’t make the big deal out of it. And she knew a lot of topics to talk about, and even knowing that she didn’t have the slightest notion of music, Mario enjoyed her company

But there was this problem, she was the perfect girl. Every person would dream of having her, they might cut a leg just to make it. So, she wasn’t the problem, he was the problem.

He, being aware of all her perfection, couldn’t love her.

He tried to, god, he really tried to, but it was impossible. And he felt guilty about that, as if was his obligation to handle his feelings. He tries to be the best boyfriend in the world, or at least he had try, because his culpability of not being able to love the perfection itself made him wander what the hell was wrong with him. The psychiatrist told him that he didn’t have to push himself, but it was really difficult to do as he said.

Of course it turned up to be so much easier in the moment when Ann Kathrin gave up and found other man to be with. He didn’t blame her, conversely, he wondered how it didn’t happen before. Officially, they were still together, and for Götze counting time was kind of hard, maybe it was now two or three months since he saw her for the last time, he wasn’t sure.

Sometimes he feels a little pity of himself, having a beautiful girlfriend just because he is afraid of loneliness. He didn’t even ask for her company, he just needed the others to think that he wasn’t alone, because it was already painful having pity of himself, so it would hurt a lot more if other people had pity of him too. It would be too much pathetic, again.

He also used to wonder a lot about why he asked the poor girl to be his girlfriend in first instance, when he wasn’t afraid of loneliness. He thought he liked her, or at least he thought that he should like her, it would be the normal thing. They had met, they had liked each other, and they even had gone out a couple of times. Mario didn’t want to ridicule her by turning her down.

And that’s how two years passed by, that in a blink of eyes seemed to have escaped from his hands

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Anyway, the day arrives, and Mario thinks of taking a shower, maybe even going out to the grocery. The true is that he is still lie down in his bed, hugging his acoustic guitar, playing meaningless things. He knows that today is his birthday, but he really doesn’t care.

Since his talk with Thomas, he had being able to move his ass and go, barely, to two practices with the band. He couldn’t tell if they made him good or not. Maybe they induced nothing in him. He just knew he didn’t have any inspiration. They had been working in a silly love song he had written.

Fans thought that Mario’s love songs were dedicated to Ann Kathrin. True is that they were dedicated to no one, he just had learned with time to write what the public wanted to hear. Had he become a part of the machine? Indeed, he had.

It was weird; in some way he already had assumed that this was the inevitable end, to sell themselves to the music industry, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it would be in so little time, he was just in his third album. It was also sad, at the beginning, his song had an addressee, they had feelings, and they had meanings.

Now nothing meant anything. Pure and simple.

Mario sighted, he didn’t want to get up. He wasn’t sure of having a reason to do it. He didn’t feel so bad, the invisible weight was still there, but now he was used to it, he knew how to hide it easily. It was just an annoyance that echoed background.

Toni and Arjen said nothing when he arrived to the practice; the Dutch bassist looked at him badly, but just hit him friendly in the arm. Toni, the drummer, meanwhile hugged him really tight.

‘’I’m glad that you came back’’ Was the only thing he said.

And that made Mario feel bad. Maybe it was very coward of him to get locked and refuse to leave his house. But he needed to do it, and if his band mates didn’t understand it, at least they could dissimulate it. Maybe Müller had talked to them; maybe Müller had talked because of them. Anyway, he appreciate it, he didn’t want to be asked about how he was doing.

He finally decides to stop torturing the poor guitar and get up, at least to the shower. The water eased his stiff muscles, it was very warm, and it was good for him.

Deep inside he knew what was going to happen; someone would arrive, and playing the idiot would drag him to some place in where they would celebrate him a birthday party. He had assumed it, and just waits his friends to reconsider this and to realize that the last thing he needs it’s to be with people he barely knows trying to cheer him up.

But maybe, what Mario doesn’t understand is that it is exactly what he needs.

He stayed on the shower until the water started to cool down, and for some reason, he felt it too much cold. Already dried and dressed, the boy went into the kitchen, looking for something to drink. His appetite hadn’t returned yet.

The prescription was still there, hanging alone, staring at him accusingly, like knowing he was a negligent. Well, Mario should calm down a little bit if he didn’t want to look insane.

‘’Too late’’ He told to himself in loud voice.

To Mario’s surprise, it wasn’t Thomas the one who arrived to his house, trying to get him out of it; it was Neuer, his psychiatrist.

‘’Did they send you to the demon’s hole?’’ Mario asked with acidity

‘’I…erm, no. I was the one that wanted to come, it’s just that…well’’ Manuel cleared his throat ‘’Today is your birthday and I thought that maybe it would be nice if we go out and…What are you doing?’’ He looked at him with disbelief, while the younger one took a coat out of the closet.

‘’Don’t lie, Manuel. You can’t do it’’ The alluded looked down, he had been catched‘’I know that if it isn’t you, someone else will do it, so c’mon. Let’s go to that expensive party you prepared for me. The quicker, the better’’

Manuel looked at him with stupefaction.

‘’Are you coming out of your house…on your own?’’

‘’Well, not exactly, I will use you as an excuse, dear friend’’ Mario winked and eye and smiled with difficult. He begged to be able to survive the exposure to which he was submitting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long, I'm really lazy to translate.
> 
> So, thank you very much for reading, for the kudos and comments, they mean a lot to me <3
> 
> At some point I ask you to read while listening to Blur's song Caramel, it get really messy, so I hope you can understand how it goes.

In the moment he entered, he understood the terrible mistake he was making. Playing the innocent, he turned around in his heels and tried to escape, he would have achieved it if it wasn’t for Manuel, who didn’t let him leave. Damn smarty psychiatrists.

‘’ C’mon Manuel, let me go and I’ll let you tell them that I beat you up till you let me go home’’ He whispered in a quickly way, against his ear. The music was very loud, and the light was virtually nonexistent. It was exactly the kind of place that he used to like, at least in the times when he was still a person.

‘’No’’ Mario was pushed by Manuel‘’ you are going to get in and enjoy your party, was I clear, Mario?’’ Mario opened his mouth, like trying to argue ‘’No, no excuses’’

The young one gave up, after all, he was already there, perhaps he could hide in the bathroom or something until the party ends.

This, of course, became impossible once he got in, or rather, when people noticed that Mario was in. A scream rose between them all, and Mario faked a smile while he was going from hug to hug. It seemed like the party had been going for hours now, people smelled like alcohol, and he was pretty sure that trays didn’t have any food.

People, however, seemed to quickly forget about him, leaving him alone in his quiet corner, with no one bothering him, drinking a screwdriver that was too much sweet. Before he noticed it, he had drunk far too much.

He listened to a few muted whispers beside him; a cry of reproach that was followed by an absolute silence. Then the kissing sounds started. Mario removed in the couch, a little uncomfortable, it was a letter couch, and it was making him sweat. The trays were getting closer to him, and he was feeling very tempted to grab one of those tablets and just let it all go away. But he couldn’t do it, he wanted to go home quickly, and maybe get locket for another month. If he had some of what they were offering, he wouldn’t be conscious before 24 hours.

The kissing sounds got stronger and stronger, followed by a few sights and some drowned moans. He felt like a third wheel, but he wasn’t sure that his brain could manage to tell his extremities to get up, no matter how much he wanted to. To his luck there was a tiny pillar that hided him from the other couch.

‘’Don’t leave me again, please’’ He heard a desperate whisper; the voice of the guy sitting next to him had faltered.

‘‘You know I have to go’’ another masculine voice answered, clearly annoyed. Then again, he heard kissing sounds.

‘‘Please don’t’’ the desperation in the guy’s voice made Mario feel bad of listening to them, it seemed like an intimate moment, he thought that indeed this was a good time to get up and leave.

‘’I don’t know why you even bother. You look really happy with that Götze kid’’ And then, something clicked in Mario’s mind. He staid stood when he realized that the couple sitting next to him was nothing but Thomas and Mario Gómez.

‘’No, it’s not like that, Mario’’ He felt how Thomas shaked Gómez ‘’you know that I’m never going to love someone like I love you. He will never fill your place…no one ever will fill your place’’ Müller’s voice cracked again, it sounded like he was crying.  
‘‘You know? You’re being really selfish. Why don’t you come with me to Italy?’’ Gómez said, a little annoyed ‘’I know you won’t do it, your band is too important for you, have you ever thought that my job is important for me?’’

Now Götze was sure that it was time for leaving, he didn’t want to hear this argument. He really loved Thomas, he was his best friend, and although he knew that Gómez was the love of his life, he was tearing Thomas apart. He felt like a coward, incapable of helping, and he probably was one. But he also knew that when it was about this relationship, it didn’t have any point to get in, the two of them were really hardheaded.

He stood up, with precaution so they wouldn’t see him, which was unnecessary, since both were too abstracted in each other as to give attention to what happened around them.

There were many people dancing, some of them were shouting at him to play something, but he honestly wasn’t in the mood, he was feeling too dizzy and of course he wouldn’t manage to convince Thomas to leave his "boyfriend" and go to play some silly song with him. Finally he accepted one of the pills that were offered to him, he didn’t care about anything anymore, now he just wanted to stop being conscious of himself for a while.

He looked at the wall, where a very big and luxury watch told him that it was already 3 am, maybe it was a good time for leave the place, since nobody would notice his absence. Manuel was talking with his girlfriend, and he had eyes only for her. He wouldn’t even try to stop him.

He got closer to the DJ, and practically begged him to put the Blur’s song Caramel (N.W: I strongly recommend top put the song right now, it a little messy with the story, but it makes it so much better) The DJ nodded, and Mario decided that he would leave just when the song ends.

The place sank in silence; this was the way everything began, from nothing. It was not a sudden cut with strong sequences; it was only a soft whisper that relaxed. The first chords began to sound. Mario closed his eyes and balanced his body softly. This song was transporting him towards another place, suddenly already he was not any more a well-known musician, he was just normal person. It was filling him with peace.

The people got a bit bored, it was not a song adapted to dance; on the contrary, it provoked you to sit down, and maybe cry a little bit, that went on how much drunk you were. Somehow the dissonant chords were evoking distant memories. It was making Mario think about his life, about that didn’t understand anything; he didn’t know what he was doing nor what he was going to do. But at the same time it was relaxing it, the guitarist thought that he wasn’t alone, that although he was a stranger, there were people as this one who understood him.

Maybe the song was speaking about another thing, with time Mario had learned that not always the people understand to what one refers, and that is magic. Because each one can find the meaning that they feel, they can manage to feel empathy. The chords were repeating themselves again and again, as if they were in stagnation, almost the perfect metaphor to refer he couldn’t improve, how he couldn’t move forward.

The first verse was heard (Wait until the singing part starts, sorry if it gets really messy)

‘’I’ve gotta get over’’ And Mario felt it like a stab in the center of his heart, because it sounded referred to him. He had to sit down, his legs couldn’t hold his weight.

" I’ve gotta get better" The floor received Mario’s weight completely, whatever he had taken was now making and effect on him, and not of a good way. He was feeling that it was his mother the one that was saying these things to him; he also felt that it was his psychiatrist. Suddenly the whole world was saying to him " You’ve gotta stop smoking, you’ve gotta get better" And it was making Mario really angry, who were they to decide about his feelings?

The hum sounded sarcastic, almost like derision. As if it were trying to falsely encourage him, it even made him want to beat up someone. The first chords were repeating, and were calming him. The music was starting to go slower, but then, they started singing again (Wait until they start singing)

‘’Where is the magic?’’ That was exactly what he asked himself, all over again. Where is the magic, where is the love, where is a way out, will I stay in a stagnation forever, what is the point of all this ‘’I’m with you forever’’

A few tears rolled over his face, this was depressing him way too much, it was a so fucking real song, that it made him angry the last phrase, because it was lie bigger than a house. No one was there for anyone, Thomas wasn’t there for him, nor was Gómez there for Thomas. He wasn’t even there for Ann Kathrin.

He suddenly stood up; he didn’t believe that he would make it until the end of the song. As a reflex action he looked for his keys in his pocket, but he didn’t find them. He had to go.

Mario turns his head around too much quickly, provoking a momentary dizziness to him, in the moment that he was able to focus his view, his heart stopped. It stopped, yes, but then it began to resound intensively against his chest; 1, 2, 3, 4, 80, 342 times, rapidly he lost the account, and he lost all his air as well.

Mario was an artist, and as such, he couldn’t just loose the opportunity to submerge and rejoiced in his own extravagancy. That’s why, he thought that if he were on a movie, everything around would become gray and would go slower. He, on the other hand, would have very brilliant colors, and would begin to walk faster. Then, in a frenzy, he would pass running and pushing everything in between, he would hit people who’d look at him and wondered if his marbles finally went away. All until he faced him.

Everything would suddenly stop, because against all probability, there, standing in front of him, was Marco. Of course he didn’t act like in his thoughts, because in the moment he saw that haircut in the middle of the crowd, he cowed.

It is not that they were fought at all; they simply had stopped talking in a gradual way. Marco was a writer, and in some moment he had been Mario’s best friend, at some point, he had also been the greatest love of his life, but that of course, was now in the past.

It wasn’t like they were an actually couple or something like that in the past; they just had been "fooling around" for some time, without getting to anything. Mario became famous and Marco couldn’t stand the city life anymore, so he moved into the country. It was natural that in some moment they had stopped talking to each other.

For these reasons it was stupid to feel nervous of going and simply speak to him. But it was necessary understanding Mario's sentimental background, who obviously hadn’t forgotten about him at all. He would’ve love to be able to go and stand in front of him like a natural thing, to make him laugh and to have him in his feet. He really would’ve loved it, but Mario wasn’t anymore that kind guy, now he was nothing more than a spoiled and cocky boy that nobody liked.

Thinking about that, why they were so many people there? He had acquired the sensation that nobody liked him these days. Wow, he was now a really good sentimental fag, he almost looked like those stupid people that spends all day long on blaming the other ones with his problems, always trying to show how hurt they are. If he knew someone like him, he would probably punch him in the middle of his face.

With the legs trembling like gelatin, Mario decided not to get frightened, and to go to greet him. He didn’t know why, maybe he needed to get a closure, maybe he just was being nice. The only thing that he knew was that he needed to do it urgently.

He stopped in his side, the blond one hadn’t seen him, so the young one decided to clear his throat.

He was unaccustomed; he had forgotten the effect that Marco had in people. He was this kind of attractive person, that without mattering how fluid your conversation was, by just looking at him you would remain blank, it would make you dizzy. You would feel that anything you said was stupid and you’d only mumble, because you were not prepared for anything this hard. Then Marco would smile, and you would get lost in his eyes, and followed whatever Marco was saying. Because it didn’t matter how stupid your answers were, it would worth it if could stay there, just looking at him.

Or maybe, Mario was still too dazzled.

Marco smiled at him, frankly, and pressed him hard in one of his typical hugs, and he didn’t let him go for a while. When he finally decided to loosen him, the blond one got closer to his ear, and said.

'’God, you are really chubby’’

To what the smallest answered with a guffaw and elbowing his ribs. 

'’Hey! be careful, I’m a fragile boy’' Marco joked while rubbing his ribs. Mario rolled his eyes.

‘’You look pretty skinny, perhaps you also adopt the anorexia as religion? ‘’ Mario stuttered with some disdain. 

'’No Mario, you’ll see, the thing is that my aim, unlike yours, is not to turning into a whale’' Marco smiled at him with his head a little inclined, while looking at him in the eyes, really warm. The young one rolled his eyes again, he was accustomed to this type of jokes, or at least he used to. Marco stay quiet for a moment, before he asked ‘’How long has been since the last time I saw?’'

The chords of the beginning were listened again, and then the silence consumed it all. Marco's iris was shining in the fluorescent lights of the place. Like a kaleidoscope, it was turning again and again, with sheens and degrades of colors. In moments like this, Mario understood why he just couldn’t love Ann Kathrin, how could he ever love someone that wasn’t Marco? 

Mario looked down, the elder’s eyes made him uncomfortable.

‘’Like two or three years’’ The Young one whispered, a little embarrassed.

Marco took him by the arm, and without even looking at the people with whom he was talking to, he took him to the middle of the dance floor, where already some persons had returned to. The music became frantic, and Marco embraced Mario while forcing him to jump around. Mario could only smile, from the deepest of the heart and with complete sincerity, he was feeling so happy. 

The bigger one emanated heat, his suit was scratching Mario, had his hands sweaty and his breath smelled like alcohol. And nevertheless it seemed to be so perfect, so real, and so right. Mario passed his hands around his lost friend’s neck and hugged him tightly.

It is necessary to go over the fact that both were under the effect of drugs, otherwise this one would never have been their reunion, at least not with so many people around, but nothing mattered anymore for them. They were happy now.

In the moment that Marco inclined and pressed his dry lips in the other’s one, Mario only could think that no one ever had looked at him with such devotion, and probably no one would. Because that awkward kiss was a lot better that any other kiss he had given in his fucking life. God, he missed kissing Marco so much, he couldn’t get how he even stop seeing him.

Nobody looked at them, it was very dark and everything was fuzzy. Marco took his wrist and led him to sit in the couch. His lips were dry and split, probably because of the cold, and his mouth tasted like rum. A kind of electricity ran along Mario’s legs, he felt incredibly light-headed, and a little excited too, it had been a long time since he had human contact.

‘’I spoke with your doctor’' Marco whispered to Mario in between kisses. Mario looked at him, frowning.

‘’My doctor? What?’’

'’He is here’’ Marco laughed and threw his head backwards, pointing. Mario saw Manuel smiling at him with shyness; he knew Manuel was there, he was the one who forced him to go to the party, but, talking with Marco?

'’What did he say to you?’’ Mario asked, a little worried

‘' Nothing more than what I already knew; that you are crazier than a goat, and that your depression is bigger than your ego’’ Marco mocked at him.

Mario looked down, he was considering firing Neuer, apparently he was not respecting the silence agreement between doctor and patient. He was feeling so ashamed; his depression was his secret, his weakness, the part that he hated the most about himself.

'’This is going to sound like a madness … in fact, it is indeed a madness’’ Marco stopped and bite his lip, without being sure if it was ok to continue. Mario moved his hands eagerly, hoping that he would '’why don’t you come to my house for a while? You know, I got sick of all this shit and moved into the country, to some place where nobody knew me. 

The minor first looked at him with stupefaction, and then he throws his head backwards and guffaws like he hadn’t in a long time.

‘’I think that the one that is mad it’s you, Marco’’ The alluded one hit him with his elbow and stuck out his tongue, like a child would do

‘’Course I’m not. Manuel thought it was a great idea. You could do with a break from this public life, and my house keeper always complies about how much food is leftover. You eat so much that she would be really happy’’ Mario looked at him in the eyes.

He knew that he was afraid, but not afraid of Marco. He was afraid of himself, because he knew that without mattering how strong his will was, he would do whatever Marco wanted. His will was a very fragile thing, or at least when it was about Marco.

'’Ok, it’s been years since the last time I saw you, maybe changing airs will be good’’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So he slept badly, like always. It was a weird feeling, as if a beam of light were hitting in his eyes, or a thunderous noise were leaving him restless. But he opened his eyes to find out that everything was absolutely dark, and there was no sound other his own breathing. This was making him wonder rightly if it wasn’t something else what annoyed him.

Thomas’ phrase came to his mind ‘no one ever will fill your place’ he was completely aware that his singer was using him as Gómez's replacement. And even though he was trying to deny it, he knew that Thomas was a replacement too. 

What a dreamer he had been, thinking that someone would ever fill Marco’s place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, translating is difficult. Or maybe it's me being too lazy.
> 
> Thank so much for the kudos and comments <3 The last chapter is going to take a while, it is going to be a little bit longer, so well.

The days that followed his birthday passed by like a blur, without a fresh start. If his mind used to wonder to another planet in the everyday targets before, now the problem became something a thousand times worst, he just switched himself to an automatic mode. He leaved his house, and before even being conscious about that, he was already back again.

 

A weird relief invaded him, deep inside he knew that he should be afraid, that he should panic about losing his life in this way. But he didn’t, he was in peace with everything, it was a way of making the normal and banal turn into something bearable. And his thoughtful world was very beautiful place to be.

 

After a long argument with Manuel, Mario fired him, with his voice in the skies, letting him know what he thought about psychiatrist and what they should do, specially that he didn’t have the right to go divulging his problems around the town, and that he couldn’t tell people what they should do about him. The next day he went back to Manuel’s office, with the tail between his legs and his head bowed, trying to apologize without having to talk. His psychiatrist just smiled and let him resume the sessions.

 

He finally bought the damn sleeping pills. They weren’t infallibles, but at least they made him lie in his bed for six hours a day, and although they didn’t let him rest properly, at least he didn’t have those horrible dark circles under his eyes. It made him feel a little more human in some way.

 

He was attending to the band practices, the double in a week than in the last month. He wasn’t composing of course; he rather put himself in an automatic mode and just played the guitar because of the wonders of the muscle memory, which told him how to play the songs without having to remember them. He even went out with them to a bar after practice, with unfavorable results. 

 

Thomas was sent to look for some beers to drink, while the other stayed in some kind of uncomfortable but provoked silence. Toni was looking down, a little embarrassed, while Arjen sat there, with his usual ’Something here smells bad’ face. The singer gave a significant look to Toni before leaving, and it seemed that the bassist was trying to make a whole in his head. Like that quote, how was it? If looks could kill…

 

Robben elbowed him, which made Kroos clear his throat, but he is still not much predisposed to talk, at least not too much. Marco thought that it would be a while till one of them finally decide to talk, so he could lose in his thoughts for a while, paying just a slightly attention to the silent fight that other members of the band were freeing.

 

He could rightly assume that the fight was about him, it seem to be the one and only thing they would ever discuss, he was the only dysfunctional part of the band, or at least, the only one that was dysfunctional enough to let them forget about everything else, that would just go background, while he was with a camera right in front of him, with a man asking him ‘’Are you all right, son?’’ and a lantern light beating him directly in the eyes.

 

Oh, sweet, sweet drama that let him shelter in his own and sentimental planet. Probably he should leave the music world, so he could devote himself to film movies. Yes, he might say that his entire musical career really had been a way of making money, that his truly ambition was to film. He would turn into an independent filmmaker and only the people of great cultural knowledge would understand his histories. Maybe he should go buy a beret tomorrow.

 

‘‘Very well, now listen to me, Mario’’ Arjen's strong and determined voice extracted him from his lethargy. Toni was looking at the soil, slightly guilty grin in his facek. Thomas was taking way too long. ‘’It’s been six months since the last time that we played live, we need to get back on the game, people are starting to talk, they say such things like you are getting mad or something like that. You are a very important part of the band,’’ Mario wasn’t sure ‘’so the only thing you can do is get better’’

 

Oh, well. The minor didn’t answer immediately, he just bitted his nails. He breathed very deeply a few times before he realized that if he didn’t answer, Arjen’s head would explode.

 

‘’I’m…not sure’’ With his head down, this were the only words that dared to leave his mouth.

 

Toni tried to make him as smaller as he could; Arjen’s rage attack was imminent, Mario rapidly stood up, he needed to leave the table quickly, he didn’t want to hear more reproaches, no, please.

 

'’IF IT IS NECESSARY, I WILL KICK THAT SON OF A BITCH OUT OF THIS DAMNED BAND, AND I DON’T MATTER WHAT THE HELL YOU THINK …!’' No, really, he did not want to listen, he was feeling at the edge of tears. He felt sorry for Toni, but he would have to calm the bassist.

 

H went out and remained sat in the stairs, looking at the sky, probably he should go away before someone would go out looking for him, but he didn’t feel any desire of moving. It was cold, the sky was cleared, and the stars were insistently shining. Someone was crying, sitting near him; he was probably one of those drunken that get depressed with alcohol. Poor man.

 

The man sounded torn apart, his sobs were drowning him. Mario though that the word ‘empathy’ really meant something, because the only thing he wanted to do now was joining him, not sure why, he just needed to do it. He turned his head to his right, and he realized that it was Thomas. Wow, he really should recognize his friend a little better. Mario got closer, worry marked in his face.

 

Thomas didn’t say a word, he just held him tightly, crying disconsolately in his shoulder.

‘’Who do I have to kill?’’ Mario asked in an attempt to cheer up his friend that incredibly failed. Thomas buried his fingers in the other’s coat, he kept on sobbing for a while, and he only stopped when he calmed himself enough to say:

 

‘’We broke up…he, Mario broke up with me’’ Gotze held him even tighter. He had to admit that it didn’t sound weird to him. Mario Gómez had been in an intermittent relation with Thomas since they were fifteen years old, when they met in the high school. It had been a movie kind love history, two popular boys who one day look at each other just to find out that they were madly in love, and then had to hide his love from the world. The truth is that they were just a pair of idiots. They kissed in hidden places, wrote silly letters, and of course eternal love was sworn. But clearly, things weren’t that easy,

 

Both were selfish and narcissists, Thomas had turned into rock star and Mario had gone away to Italy to administrate companies, none wanted to yield his dreams to be able to be with the other one, and Thomas didn’t think about declaring his homosexuality, like ever, even less considering that the whole country thought about him like some sort of overrated sex symbol.

 

‘’He said that he loves me, and that he will love me forever, but he can’t stand this anymore’’ The elder continued talking with apprehension. He raised his eyes a bit, looking at the sky with obvious melancholy ‘’He added that if someday I stop being a selfish brat, I might understand it’’

 

Mario caressed his friend’s hair and started with the typical speech that a good friend must give ‘’He didn’t deserve you, Thomas…’’

 

‘’Do you know what the worst thing is?’’ The elder one interrupted Mario, looking at him directly in the eyes; he was not listening to him. Mario denied with the head. Thomas returned to look at the sky ‘’that he is completely right, he would do anything for me, I but I wouldn’t for him. God, I’m such an idiot’’

 

The minor supported his head in the shoulder of his friend. He loved him.

 

‘’You really are’’ He loved him enough to tell him the truth.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

That night he dreamed very lucidly, with mixed memories, he could almost smell them.

Mario was walking along the street, without headphones, but singing. In some moment he had learned that people looked at you weirdly if you are singing, and that’s why he tried to do it just when he was alone, or with people too much worried in doing other things than listening to him. Now he was alone, this meant that he could sing without problems, as long as he did it in low voice. It was two o'clock of the morning, probably there would be people sleeping that would not receive well his hesitating screams.

He was singing precisely because he didn’t have headphones, but he did have a song stuck. It was a really a great song ‘’Three changes’’ and it had an interesting moment, in which he sang ‘’Oh, it’s alright, ‘cause everything’s jolly’’ with an incredibly depressing voice, and indeed it was interesting, because there aren’t many things that get along so well like happy lyrics and a voice that tells you the opposite.

He felt it, deeply, in a non frivolous way. The music was his life, and couldn’t sing without feeling it, it would be contradictory. This way, abstracted in his thoughts like he was, Mario saw a girl, with a key in what presumably was the front of his house. She looked at him with worry, and in certain way Mario enjoyed this, maybe he was not that bad at acting.

Mario's face was the painting of misfortune itself, because it was mimicking with the song. And then he asked himself what would be of this girl, to run into a boy at these hours, which looks so miserable. She was speaking with someone at the telephone, but her lips remained opened, in the middle of a sentence. She frowned a little, her eyes shone with abandonment, asking herself what she could do about him, and without finding any answer at all.

But Mario quickly passed by her side, singing.

Then the dream changed, and was mixed with another memory. Now he wasn’t alone, and he did have headphones, in fact he was sharing them with someone taller. He looked at his right, there it was Thomas, and he was singing with his rough and perfect voice. He was smiling, he looked so much younger, and do it all with gallantry. He was the typical gallant in some way, and he already had this incredibly rock star vocation, he was just so sure of himself, so confident. Mario smiled without realizing, pleased with the attention that he was receiving of the other boy, who had stopped singing and now was telling him about how impressed he was when he saw Mario playing the guitar ‘I am starting a rock band, and you are perfect for it, exactly what I am looking for’’ and Mario was smiling, thrilled, already wanting to tell Marco that such a popular guy like Thomas had invited him to join a band.

Marco…

Another memory was mixed in the dream, and it felt so real, so close, that it hurt. A lot. 

Mario and Marco were kissing, hot and soft lips, trembling hands, supported against one of the walls of the university they went to, and which Mario never finished. It was a giant place, and there were many corners where to hide, even if they where catch, no one would say a thing.

That’s how they met, in fact, when Mario registered for the first time in Plastic Arts and Marco inscribed himself in the third year of Philosophy and Literature. The blond one forgot a bunch of papers on the desk, so Mario, who was behind him, followed him and diligently returned the papers. Before he could even realize, they became inseparable, and one day, as if it were normal, they started dating.

Their relationship was kind of weird, but extremely nice, they were like best friends, but with benefits. No one talked about a relationship ever, to be honest.

‘’Shit’’ The minor whispered while he separated from Marco, who took that time to breath. Mario answered his phone, which had been insistently ringing in his pocket. It was Thomas, apparently, he had been insistence since his birth, and it was practically a life habit.

‘’Everything okay?’’ Marco asked in low voice, while he took out a cigarette and lightened it. Mario hanged up and raised his eyes, sighting. 

‘’I’ve gotta go. Thomas says that is a matter of life and death’’ He chewed his lower lip a little. He could stay if Marco asked him for, the singer would have to suck it up ‘’But I rather stay with you’’

‘’ ‘S okay’’ The blond one answered, his voice monotonic, it really didn’t bother him. His smile was a little crooked ‘’Anyway I have to leave too’’ Marco gave him a quickly peck on his lips before leaving, not saying anything. And then, Mario was plunged in a drowning despair. 

Mario woke up in the middle of the night, haggard and frightened. It was Marco’s fault. It wasn’t him being the soulless one that forgot about his friend, it had been Marco. That’s why he couldn’t get over him, that’s why Thomas became a substitute, now everything fit. Everything seemed to guide him to the same point; if he wanted to get over this, if he wanted to closure, he had to go to Marco’s.

It was five o'clock of the morning, perfect moment to start packaging; he had a several hours trip ahead. Apparently she still had certain vocation of impulsively inside him.

 

When he was already in the train station, he remembered that he didn’t even have the slightest idea of where Marco lived, neither had his telephone number. A kind of disappointment took over him, burying the expectation that he had begun to adopt. He looked for his phone in his pocket, before remembering that he didn’t have one. He stared at the map like a stupid, not being sure about what to do.

A thought took control of his head. Yes, that would be easy but he would have to throw away the little self-respect he still had. Mario kept on thinking, but that seem to be the only way out he had. So he throws his head backwards, because before going to Manuel’s office and admitting to him that he was right, he would rather spit Arjen in the middle of his face.

But no, it really was the only way, he would have to go to Manuel’s and ask him where the fuck Marco lives, because he was such an idiot that he was planning on tripping without knowing where.

He took a cab outside the train station, the man recognized him, and got really excited, so he started to talk and talk. It kind of reminded him to Thomas, his verbiage was overwhelming ‘’Poor Thomas, I hope he is fine’’ Mario felt a little guilty of letting his friend alone in that state, but he couldn’t take care of him right now. The worst luck remained being Toni’s, who would have to bare Arjens’ anger once he find out that the two other members of the band went on a trip to find love. Oh God, this level of tawdriness was making him sick.

He signed a few things the taxi driver gave to him. This one assured him that he didn’t have to pay; Mario thought that it was great, since he didn’t have any cash left.

When he got of the car, he saw that Neuer was just opening the gates of his office, who smiled at him kindly, perhaps a little confused.

‘’We didn’t have an appointment today, Mario’’

‘’I know’’ he quickly interrupted him. No need of making this longer ‘’Do you have Marco’s address?’’

Manuel’s face was a poem. He was trying with all his being not to mock at him, because he was right, and going to Marco’s house was after all, the best way out. He wrote the address in little paper, which he folded and passed to Mario with a smile, holding back a guffaw.

' I believe that the train that I annotated goes directly, it will be approximately three hours of trip, ask for a pamphlet with a local map when you get there, that way you won’t have trouble with locating.’

Mario seized the paper looking down, a little ashamed, but Manuel didn’t release it.

‘’You know what, Mario? I was thinking of increasing the fee, you don’t have any problem, do you?’’ He said with jeer in his voice. Mario snorted, but he didn’t say anything, he knew that this was a way of paying the rage attacked he had. Fair enough, specially taking in account that in the end he was right. Again, damn smarty psychiatrists, 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After knocking around a town that he knew little or nothing, he finally managed, thanks to a nice lady, to locate Marco's direction. It was a small town in the middle of plains, surrounded by nothing. The perfect place for an exhausted writer. 

He rang the bell, a little surprised. Marco’s levels of drama almost overcome Mario’s, that’s why he thought that they would be a few police officers with intercoms waiting. Then he remembered that fame is not that bad when you are a writer, so there was no need of security. Or maybe Marco, unlike Mario, had grown up, who knows.

A fifty year old woman opened the door, with a stern look and a neat presence. She looked at him in the eyes, and Mario felt a little self-conscious.

‘’Yes? In what can I help you?’’ The woman asked with an acid tone.

‘’I…’’ Mario cleared his throat, nervous. ‘’I just wanted to know if Marco is here. Marco Reus’’

The woman examined him from upside down, and suddenly sweetness took control of her expression, her eyes became warm, and a smile replaced the wrinkled grimace that she had.

‘’Oh, you are such a dapper young man. Come in, come in ' She moved to a side, letting Mario go in with his luggage ‘’I hope someone like you can teach Mr. Reus to eat a little more and smoke a little less’’

…Ok, he was trying not to think that the lady was calling him chubby. He preferred to stay shut. The apparently housekeeper pointed upstairs.

‘’Mr. Reus is in his studio, he will tell you were the guest room is’’ Ok, his was a really bad housekeeper, how could she let anyone in? So, in fact, after Mario came up, he found Marco sat, smoking with the window open, and reading what presumably a manuscript was.

A panic wave invaded his chest, what the hell was he doing there? It was no-sense; straitened decisions never lead to anything good. Marco moved his head, noting that someone was there, Mario smiled apologetically, ashamed.

Marco stood up, and in four large steps, he was beside Mario. He smiled at him like he was the only thing remaining in the whole fucking world.

‘’You decide to come’’ Marco caressed Mario’s cheek with the back of his hand ‘’I’m so glad you did it’’

Mario felt that something inside him was melting, that his legs wouldn’t bare him anymore. It was unfair that people like Marco even existed, what was left for the others?

Maybe, Mario thought, depression is not that bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I hope you've enjoyed it. This is a translation from a spanish fanfic, so tell me if there are any mistakes, so I can change them.
> 
> Any kind of comment is well apreciated :D


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